I was a lowly accountant and she was a shy young thing. A head of unruly red curls, and a keen attention to anything I said. She stole my heart! How joyful I was when she agreed to marry me. I brought my bride home to a modest cottage outside of the city. It was in need of paint and plumbing repairs, and there were sugar ants in the kitchen. She appeared delighted, and I was grateful. Unfortunately I had no time to devote to repairs, and we simply couldn’t afford a full renovation. Within two weeks, she had repainted it inside and out. The kitchen was spotless and the bathroom sparkled like new. Her pot roasts and desserts were heavenly, and she never complained about anything. In the space of two years, I rose to be manager of the firm.

All that I just took for granted until one stormy night when gargoyles were flying about willy-nilly as they have been wont to do since we moved here, I caught her in the kitchen invoking a spell.

“Is that creature in the air with a scorpion tail a kindred spirit?” I asked.

“Of course he is, Malcolm,” she replied with a twinkle in her emerald eyes. “Is that a problem?”

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